


The Devil's Angel

by mercscilla



Category: The Messengers (TV 2015)
Genre: F/M, Verifer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-29
Updated: 2015-04-29
Packaged: 2018-03-26 09:31:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3845845
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mercscilla/pseuds/mercscilla
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Another day, another encounter, but this time Vera doesn't back down and gives as good as she gets. The result isn't what either of them expected.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Devil's Angel

**Author's Note:**

> This show is not even two episodes old and I'm already head over heels. xD I'm pretty sure shipping this couple guarantees you a ticket to hell but I. Don't. Care. *lalala* This is set at some point in the future, a few weeks from Episode 2 I'd say, but there are no real spoilers for any future episodes. It's all fandom, not canon. :D

She's on the first floor of the motel they're staying in, leaning against the railing and watching the others from above. Below her, Joshua and Rose are engrossed in conversation, a notepad on the table between them, trying to figure out his latest vision, and Vera knows it won't take them long – in the few weeks they've known each other, these two have proven to be quite the effective team. He receives, she deciphers and off they are to their next battle.

Giggling sounds from the other side of the courtyard and her mouth turns up in a small smile as she watches Amy winning another round of tag against Peter and Nadia, much to Erin and Raul's amusement who are cheering them on from the sidelines. 

“That could be you down there, Vera. You and Michael.”

His voice slices like a blade through the air, setting the hair at the nape of her neck on end, and she fights the urge to flinch. For whatever reason, he can't hurt any of them physically, uses words instead, wields them like a sword, and though they've cut deep in the past, she's learned long ago that they hold no real power over her. And so she pulls on the spark inside her, takes a deep breath and glances over her shoulder at him. He's leaning against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest and looks like nothing in this world or beyond could ever touch him.

“One day, it will be,” she says, pleased when the words come out steady and unaffected, and when he raises one eyebrow, she adds, “but on _my terms_. Not yours.”

Her smile turns knife-sharp and there's a flash of red in his eyes, flames of hell blazing bright, but it's gone as quickly as it appeared, and his expression smooths out to that blank mask again.

“Ah, yes, your _gift_ ,” he mocks her, that unearthly smirk painted on his lips again. “Do you really think it will be enough to defeat me and get your son back?”

For a few heartbeats she stays silent, doesn't answer him right away, and it's not because she's having doubts, is questioning herself or her friends, but because for the first time in weeks, maybe even years, Vera knows for sure that they will win, no matter how long it will take – and that she will see Michael again.

“Yes.” One word, spoken strong and powerful and full of conviction, and it's enough to make him finally loose control. In the blink of an eye he's crossed the short distance between them, pulls her around to face him and crowds her back against the railing, his fingers gripping her shoulders, holding her in place.

“You fool,” he whispers, shaking his head. “You cannot best me, Vera.”

“We will see.” She meets his burning gaze defiantly, no longer the paralyzed woman from before who was so easily manipulated by him but a true warrior of Heaven, and she can sense her wings unfolding behind her. His eyes grow dark, almost feral, and he chuckles, a low and sinister sound, slides one hand to her nape and grips her hip with the other as he leans in.

“You can't beat me, Vera,” he murmurs, his warm breath washing over her skin, and she shivers before she can stop herself. “Because I chose you a long time ago, long before He did.”

His words hit her hard and her hands come up to push against his chest, trying to shove him away, but he's stronger than her. He entwines his fingers in her hair and tilts her head back, forcing her to look at him as he releases her hip to skim his fingers up along her bare arm and across her shoulder until they're resting at the base of her throat, leaving a trail fire over her collarbone in their wake.

“You were mine first.”

Time seems to stand still as they stare at each other silently, that strange tension sizzling between them again that never fails to sends her pulse racing, and Vera's breath catches in her throat as something flickers behind his eyes, something that lets an answering heat start to coil low in her belly.

Whatever is happening between them has got nothing to do with the battle for mankind, it's something entirely else, runs deeper than anything she has ever felt before, and even though part of her is scared, another part of her is tempted, wonders what it would be like to fall, to fall with him, and at that thought, her fingers flex involuntarily where they're resting again his chest and she feels him shudder under her palm.

When he lowers his face towards hers, Vera meets him half-way, her body melting into his as he presses his mouth against hers, teeth sharp beneath her tongue, the scent of scorched earth and fresh rain surrounding them.

Her heartbeat's echoing in her ears, drowning everything out but the feel of him beneath her fingers, the taste of him on her tongue, and it's like a storm is building between them, bright and fierce and all-consuming. Pulling her closer, he deepens the kiss, runs his hands down her sides and trails them along her back, brushing against her wings—

_his body's moving against hers and she digs her nails into his shoulder blades as he drags his lips down the arch of her throat and whispers a vow in a language as old as time against her skin_

—Vera breaks the kiss with a gasp and stares at him with wide eyes, her thoughts scattering as a faint feeling of panic wells up in her. His expression is blank, she can't even imagine what is running through his mind, and for one terrifying moment she thinks it's just another game to him but then she sees a shadow crossing his face, something akin to shock and thinly veiled fear, and she knows without a doubt that whatever his plan had been, it hadn't included _this_ happening between them.

She exhales shakily and his eyes drop to her lips only to snap back up to hers again. He lets go of her so suddenly as if she's burned him and backs away until they're on opposite sides of the hallway again, his hands falling to his sides, clenched into fists, and she curls her fingers around the metal of the railing behind her, pushing down the panic clawing at her soul— 

He's gone from one moment to the other.

Slumping against the railing, Vera lets it support her weight as she stares blankly at the wall, struggling to pull herself together and trying to understand what the hell just happened (the irony of her choice of words isn't lost on her) but nothing that just took place makes sense.

She runs his words through her mind over and over again, feels them branded on her soul, just like his touch has branded her, the echo of it haunting her, and she presses trembling fingertips against her burning lips.

Laughter from below jolts her mind back into focus and reminds her of what really is at stake here (it's not her soul nor her heart) but as she turns to look out across the courtyard again, her friends still talking and playing, unaware of what happened a floor above them, Vera can't shake off the feeling that the fate of mankind depends on where this thing between her and the devil is leading.

\- END -


End file.
